


Burning at the Stake

by knightinmourning



Series: Ineffable Husbands Bingo Fills [13]
Category: Good Omens
Genre: Female Crowley (Good Omens), Gen, Historical Inaccuracy, Nanny Crowley (Good Omens), Witch Hunts, attempted execution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2019-12-12
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:06:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21769597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knightinmourning/pseuds/knightinmourning
Summary: Crowley's big heart gets in into trouble more often than she'd like to admit, especially when kids are involved. Luckily she has an angel looking out for her.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Ineffable Husbands Bingo Fills [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1425583
Comments: 2
Kudos: 29
Collections: Ineffable Husbands Bingo





	Burning at the Stake

**Author's Note:**

> For the "Burning at the Stake" square of the Ineffable Husbands Bingo.
> 
> Also, uh, I wouldn't trust the historical accuracy of this one. It's not that I didn't research, it's that the only research I _did_ do was glancing at the wikipedia page on the Salem Witch Trials for like, two minutes. Really just long enough to confirm that a man was crushed to death with rocks.

Crowley stood in the crowd, a ball of sorrow and fear welling up in her throat. The old man hadn’t done anything wrong, didn’t deserve the punishment he was receiving. Technically, he hadn’t even been convicted of anything. This torture wasn’t a sentence, it was an attempt to get him to plead guilty.

Another rock landed on the pile, though she was sure at this point that he was dead.

The town of Salem had been wrapped up in this chaos for months as a series of girls and women were accused of witchcraft and put to trial for them. This man was just one of many who had died as a result. Most of the others had been from hanging. 

Crowley hated it. Hated that these innocent people were dying for no reason and even worse, that she was the cause of all of this.

After all, Hell sent her here to cause some trouble. She hadn’t done much, hadn’t needed to before the villagers took it and ran with it.

Another stone.

He was dead, didn’t they understand? Didn’t they care?

Of course not. These people feared demons and witches and spectres and anything else that might go bump in the night, that might threaten their quiet life.

Crowley cupped the head of the child she was nannying. Most of the village was here watching this brutality, including a number of children. The little girl beside her glanced up at the contact.

“I’m not going to be hurt by the witches, am I, Nanny?”

What could she say? The one child in the village with a demon for a nanny, who was closer to this than anything.

“Of course not, my dear. You’ll always be safe with Nanny.”

* * *

The little one was asleep. Crowley sat up, watching her doze. She wanted nothing more than to protect her charge from the horrors of humanity, but she couldn’t do that. It would be too much to get that involved.

_ Knock knock knock _ .

This late at night, a caller only meant trouble. She brushed the hair from the girl’s forehead, pulling the blanket back up to her shoulders before going to the front door of the small house. She opened it to a surprise.

“ _ Angel? _ ”

“Hello, my dear. I heard I might find a strict woman with fiery red hair here. I’m glad to discover it’s you.”

“What brings you to Salem, Aziraphale?”

“Heaven approves of the execution of witches. May I come in?”

“Keep quiet. We don’t want to wake anyone.”

“Of course.”

Crowley’s bedroom was small, but they both sat on her bed, careful not to touch. It had been a long time since they had seen each other. A hundred years, maybe more. There was always an awkwardness to these meetings, a stiffness to both of them that was unnatural and uncomfortable, like they couldn’t quite remember how to move together, even after all this time.

“They aren’t witches,” Crowley said softly, after a long silence. “Every single person who’s died so far has been totally innocent.”

“Are there any witches here? At all?”

“Not that I know of. A slew of teenagers excited about the fame that comes with making accusations and a lot of scared villagers, but not much else.” 

“What are you doing here, then? Stoking the fire?”

“Mostly just raising the little girl here. She’s six now. And scared that she’ll be witch food if she’s not careful.”

They continued talking until the early hours of the morning, finally saying their goodbyes shortly before the sun rose. The last thing either of them wanted were rumors against Crowley for bringing a man into her employer’s home. Aziraphale stepped out the door and disappeared around a corner before Crowley could give him another thought.

As the first light of dawn rose, however, Crowley found herself rising and returning to the door, opening it to another caller. Or rather, callers. A whole collection of men from the village.

“Miss Crowley. There has been another accusation of witchcraft, against the young Miss Isabel.”

“Isabel Temple is not a witch. There are  _ no  _ witches in this house, I can assure you.” Crowley stood firm, unwilling to let the men into her home. No one would be stoned or hung from her family today if she had any say in it.

The leader of the group took a step towards her, squaring up to her with a violent look in his eyes. “Step out of the way, Miss. Or you may find yourself accused of aiding and abetting a witch.”

_ Isabel will die. They will not hesitate to kill a child believed to be a witch, and she’s so young she cannot defend herself. _ Crowley couldn’t allow it. “Miss Temple isn’t a witch.”

“That will be for a court of law to determine.”

“That will not be necessary. Because…” she faltered, just for a second. It would hurt. She might not get another body again quickly. She might be reassigned. “Because I am the witch, not her.”

Wide eyes and gasps flooded her senses as she pulled her glasses from her face, revealing her yellow eyes glowing in the early light. Behind her, more gasps and a cry told her that the family, that Isabel, had woken up and come to the door to see what was going on. Crowley did not close her eyes, did not let the fear show on her face.

Hell was going to kill her, but at least a child wouldn’t die.

The first shout of “Hang the witch!” was met with cheers, but another voice, more rough and angry, suggested the Crowley be burned at the stake.

It wasn’t typical, not here in the quiet little village, but it wasn’t unheard of and Crowley was a particularly serious offender. She had, after all, allowed herself to be possessed by a demon (hence the yellow eyes) and had also tricked the Temples into hiring her, allowing her to get close to Isabel, to tempt her, to take her as an apprentice, perhaps.

In all the chaos, Crowley found herself locking eyes with a single figure in the crowd. Blonde hair and blue eyes standing quietly in the back, the look of worry on his face mistaken as fear by the men around him but Crowley knew better.

They grabbed her.

Large, rough hands easily enveloped her thin upper arms, wrenching her forward and off her feet. She stumbled forward and didn’t manage to get back to feet, instead having no choice but to be dragged along beside the men whose hands were supporting her. Isabel was crying; she could hear the girl in behind her, her parents trying to soothe her, but Crowley’s focus was still on Aziraphale. This might be the last time they ever saw each other. At least he was here for the end.

They threw her into what passed as a jail in this town, which in reality wasn’t much more than a cage that Crowley was unceremoniously chained to. She simply wanted to escape, but if they found her that would make things all that much worse.

Instead she sat curled in the dry dirt, trying not to shiver from the cold of the morning and waiting for an opportunity that would allow her to leave with minimal injury to herself or anyone else.

It was a long wait until anyone came, and when they did, it was a man from the village whom she’d seen but hadn’t formally met.

“Up you go, witch. Burning at the stake is too kind a sentence for you, but it’s not my decision.” He unlocked her cuffs, foregoing an introduction to instead shove her through the gate.

The walk to the stake was too short, and the crowd was large. Of course it was.

This was nothing more than a Saturday afternoon pastime for these people. Executions to pass the time, Crowley couldn’t imagine being so cruel.

She was strung up to the stake, tied in such a way that she wouldn’t be able to get loose without some demonic intervention. As she glanced through the crowd, not letting her eyes rest for too long on any one person, she noticed Aziraphale again. He hadn’t come to see her earlier in the day, hadn’t offered his assistance or spoken in her defense. And now her corporation was going to die in front of his calm eyes.

Crowley swallowed, dropping her gaze so she wouldn’t have to see him in her last moments on Earth, at least for this time around.

She didn’t know what it would be like to die by fire. Hellfire didn’t hurt her, not since she fell, but regular fire would affect her corporation just as it would any human. Char her skin, burn her hair, make her nothing more than a pile of ashes and bones.

They lit the wood beneath her. Heat radiated up, overwhelming.

It would a slow discorporation.

Aziraphale was still watching, standing in just the right spot that she wasn’t quite able to look away.

Flames licked at her feet.

It didn’t hurt yet. When would it hurt?

If only they’d chosen a quick death. Hanging wasn’t nearly so boring.

There were gasps and then shouts that Crowley could hear over the roar over the fire, but she didn’t understand. They didn’t sound excited. They sounded angry, scared. 

She wasn’t in pain. She was fine.

The heat reached her face, her cheeks flushed and her eyes watered.

She couldn’t see Aziraphale anymore, unable to keep her eyes open through the smoke and heat.

When would it end?

And then the flames were gone. The smoke was gone. It was cold. Hell was always too cold, too damp, so it wasn’t a surprise. But that didn’t make any less of a shock.

There was a screeching in the background, but otherwise it was mostly quiet. And, she discovered as she finally wrenched her eyes open, entirely too dark. The lighting wasn’t great Down There, but there  _ was _ lighting. Here, there was barely any light at all.

“I’m sorry it took so long to get us out of there. I was hoping for a more inconspicuous exit.”

Crowley swung her head around, eyes searching for the familiar voice. What was Aziraphale doing here? What was he talking about?

“Be still, my dear. You’re safe. We’re in the woods, several miles from the village. No one will find us here. Not if I have anything to say about it, at least.” There was an edge to Aziraphale’s voice, a barely contained anger that made Crowley shiver.

She found his eyes again,  _ finally _ . Feeling herself relax knowing that she was safe, she tried to find her voice. “Thanks, angel. I appreciate it.” She wanted it to sound nonchalant, like she hadn’t spent all of her time on that stake wishing that she wasn’t going to leave him, that she might never see him again. Instead she cursed the tension of her voice, too strained to give any appearance of coolness or calm.

“You’re very welcome. Here, I managed to sneak in and get your things,” Aziraphale said, handing her the bag that contained most of her possessions at the moment, as well as another pair of glasses, lenses dark enough and wide enough to hide the truth of her face.

Sliding them on, she felt a tension she hadn’t realized she’d been carrying release from her shoulders. They were  _ safety _ , not unlike Aziraphale’s presence felt right now. As she relaxed, she realized that his hand was on her shoulder, rubbing gently and sending just a little energy towards her.

_ Healing the bruises _ , Crowley realized, without having to look. She felt it, the little  _ zap _ of a miracle sizzling along her arm.

“I’ll be on my way… well, somewhere, soon enough. No point in sticking around anymore, now that everyone wants to kill me. You’re probably staying, right? Have to bless some babies or something?”

The hand on her arm stilled. “I thought- well, I thought I might leave as well, actually. Maybe… go wherever you are? It’s been a while since we were stationed in the same place. And the people here clearly have things under control.” Aziraphale’s voice was soft, quiet. Tentative. He feared her rejection, she knew, but what else was she to do? They couldn’t do this. Not now. Not yet.

She pulled away from the comforting touch and turned away from him, allowing herself a soft sigh before she spoke again. “Not going to happen, Aziraphale. It makes more sense for us to be spread out, you know that. You shouldn’t have come in the first place.  _ The Arrangement _ , remember? A letter to me and I could have done all your work for you.”

Standing and walking away, not looking back at the angel she was sure was staring at her back, mouth agape and ready to argue, Crowley made it as far as the nearest tree before taking flight.

No one would see her in the darkness.

She’d be back in London by morning.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Kudos and Comments appreciated :)


End file.
